Beauty in Beasts
by Aquariuspower
Summary: Since she was a child, Sally Donovan thought she was good at looking through appearances. Yet a strange case might prove her wrong when Sherlock seems to be the only one able to help the victims: deformed and disabled peoples who get killed for being different. On his side, John Watson will try to make his friend open up to him and reveal painful elements of his past.
1. Chapter 1

**The beauty in beasts**

 **Since she was a child, Sally Donovan thought she was good at looking through appearances, a strange case might prove her wrong when Sherlock seems to be the only one able to help the victims: deformed and disabled peoples who get killed for being different.**

 **On his side, John Watson will try to make his friend open up to him and reveal painful elements of his past.**

 **O o O**

 **So just to be said, there will be an OC in this fanfic, the original character will remain the focus, but if you can tell me your advice on that character, that would be nice, I'm not so used to making OC.**

 _She warned him not be deceived by appearances, for beauty, is found within_

This line from Beauty and the Beast was something Sally never forgot. When she was a child, her mother made her watch it and explained her how people should never be judge through their appearances, that real beasts could hid under pretty faces and beauties could be found under ugliness.

Life had proven how right the tale was. She remembered the pretty but bitchy popular kids of her school who were beautiful on the outside, but rotten inside. She had met some people unattractive physically who were real sweethearts, Anderson could be one of them when he wanted. He wasn't the most attractive man she ever met, but he was nice and could be caring too, the contrary of Sherlock Holmes.

The damn consultant was one of the best examples of a beast hiding under Beauty's mask, because even if she didn't like him, even Sally had to admit he was attractive. In fact, the first time she saw him she felt this attraction but it was soon destroyed by the detective's behaviour. It was a slightly painful reminder of the tale.

Sadly, Lestrade didn't seem to be that bothered by Sherlock's behaviour and would call him from time to time in spite of the fact Sally was sure they could perfectly handle their work. She hoped he wouldn't call for the case they were currently working on. This case was sure very strange. Some people physically deformed or disabled were killed and their body ravaged. The first time, it was a little girl with a harelip, the next time, a blind man; the next was a young man who had an atrophied leg. The killer would beat them then stab them several times in the face.

Last night, the killer had aggressed someone again, a blind woman but thankfully she had survived. She got beaten but the killer didn't have the time to stab her to death thanks to a neighbour who made him run away. She only received nasty gashes on the face. The neighbours, a nice forty years old man, hadn't been able to provide them much information; the killer was wearing a white mask so he hadn't seen his face.

The blind woman, Rachel Lane, was in hospital right now, Lestrade, Sally and Anderson were waiting for the doctor's permission to interview her. As a forensic, Anderson wasn't really needed here but he wanted to be around with Sally.

"Do you think she'll be able to tell us something?" Asked she to Lestrade

"I don't know, maybe he said something to her," supposed the DI.

The doctor exited the woman's room.

"You can go in, but remember she is still fragile."

"Don't worry we know how to handle that kind of situation."

The three of them entered the room and Sally was almost thankful the victim was blind because the look on Anderson's face wasn't exactly appropriate; it was both horrified and slightly disgusted. The woman wasn't ugly but her face was a myriad of colours and still swollen because of the beating she received but the worst of all was the gashes on her face. One especially started from under her eyes and ran down to her chin. Even if she was blind it was as if the woman had sensed their presence.

"Who is there?" Asked she in a tired and slightly gaunt voice

"Hum…DI Lestrade, Miss Lane we would like to ask you some questions but of course if you're too tired we'll come back later."

"It's okay, go on."

She sounded lifeless and annoyed; Sally knew it was certainly because of the shock and she could understand. She made a gesture toward Lestrade, asking him silently to let her begin, she was a woman too maybe it would comfort her.

"Can you tell us what you were doing before it happened?"

"I was walking home, I needed some eggs to cook so I went out to bought some. When I was walking back home, I felt…someone grabbing me and beating me…I tried to defend myself; I searched with my hands for his face, but I only felt something hard and smooth…"

"He was wearing a mask," quickly answered Anderson.

"I figured that out myself sir," replied she in a trembling voice. "He continued to beat me; he had a hand on my neck to stop me from screaming. He told me something he…"

Rachel stopped here. Her memories weren't clear enough, she couldn't recall his exact words but she felt it was important. She closed her eyes and breathed in, trying to concentrate…

"We understand if it's too hard, take your time," said Sally slowly in a very gentle voice.

The woman snorted slightly.

"I wish to rest," said she in a dead voice.

The three looked at each others; they didn't have much of a choice after all they couldn't bully a poor blind woman into giving them answers.

"Okay, when you'll be released, please come in Scotland Yard, or call us if you want us to visit you at home…"

"I'll see you in the Yard, Inspector," replied she.

Sensing she wanted to be alone, they left without another word. Lestrade sighed, he wasn't really used to deal with blind people, and he sensed it was the same for Sally and Anderson. He would deal with that later however, for now he needed to call Sherlock. When she saw him taking his phone out, Sally got a bad feeling.

"Don't tell me you're calling the Freak."

"We need him."

"No we don't!"

"She is right, we can handle that," continued Anderson.

"He will just scare her, did you see her? She doesn't need another psychopath…"

"That's enough. I am calling him, we need him whether you like it or not."

With that, Lestrade left the two. Sally sighed and felt Anderson's hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry it should be fine. True the freak did damage in the past but we always repair it."

"We shouldn't have to do that! And I don't know if we will really be able to repair it if he traumatizes her. She already went through enough."

"Yeah, that's for sure. Maybe he'll be creped out enough to leave but it seems…"

"Creped out by what?"

"Her. I mean, hum…She got beaten badly which is not really a pretty sight, plus blind people can be…"

Sally narrowed his eyes at what he was implying. Sensing the danger, he tried to amend his words.

"I don't mean they are creepy, it's just strange to be around them; they have something so weird with those inexpressive eyes…"

"Yeah, that's because they are blind!" Exclaimed Sally with a twinge of indignation

"I know, I know, I am just saying it can be weird…"

She shook her head and sighed. Anderson wasn't mean but he was paying way too much attention to appearances, something she always thought wrong. Well, no one was perfect.

"Let's drop the subject and go back."

"Alright," agreed a very relieved Anderson.

While Anderson and Donovan were going back to the yard, Lestrade was driving at 221b Baker Street, Sherlock wouldn't answer his phone and Lestrade hoped he would be home at least.

He wasn't deceived; Holmes was home, when Mrs Hudson made him enter, he found Sherlock in the middle of an experiment involving leeches. Lestrade didn't ask what it was about, he knew better.

"Hello, Inspector."

"Sherlock, I called you."

"I was busy."

"Didn't you think it could have been important?"

"I knew that if it was important you would come, otherwise you would have called again later. You came so I know it's important."

Lestrade rolled his eyes; he wondered how John could live with Sherlock like this and never thought about killing him. He sighed and opened his mouth to talk when Sherlock interrupted him.

"It's about the latest case, with those people deformed or disabled being killed."

"Yes, a woman was aggressed yesterday night but she survived, she is in hospital."

"I'll need to see her."

"I knew you would say that, but Holmes, I warn you I don't want you to damage her more than she already is."

Sherlock snorted, Lestrade was so sensitive, it was ridiculous from time to time.

"I won't, now if you excuse me, I need to finish this, once John is back from the groceries we'll join you."

Lestrade nodded and left, hoping that John's presence would keep the detective from doing anything bad.

 **Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The beauty in beasts**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Well, even if this didn't get any feedback, I saw some followers and people who put this in favourite, so I'll continue. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.**

The next day, Sherlock and John were in the Yard to talk to Rachel Lane. They had spent the previous evening examining crime scenes and corpses; they had interviewed the man who saved her from her aggressor but he hadn't been able to provide much, he hadn't seen the killer's face, he had focused mainly on the woman, which annoyed Sherlock greatly. Now they were waiting for the blind woman who was about to come.

Even if she was blind, Rachel Lane knew how people looked at her when she entered the place: as if she was a freak. She could almost feel the pitying stares on her, she could hear some whispers and she hated it. All her life she had done everything not to be seen as a victim, to live normally even if she was blind. She hated when people said she was brave, she wasn't brave at all; she was simply trying to live. She hated pity, she hated the way people were trying to act as if they could understand, and she loathed people who were careful with their words, fearful to hurt her as if she was fragile.

She couldn't bear to be seen as a victim. Now with those scars on her face, she looked even more like a victim and people's behaviour made her realise she was one. She knew they were trying to be kind but she couldn't handle it, the sweetness in their voice was making her feel vulnerable, just like back there. She hoped this interview would be done soon. One man came to her and told her she would have to wait a little. The man grabbed her arm to lead her; Rachel resisted the urge to push him away. It wasn't good for blind people to be grabbed like this; it wasn't good for their balance.

Lestrade was told by Donovan that the victim was here but before he could rose from his chair, Sherlock stopped him.

"Wait, I want to interrogate her first and alone."

"No, you'll scare her," said Lestrade.

"I'll be here," countered John.

"I won't frighten her, but need to talk to her without anyone interfering, that's why I just want you to watch me John."

"As you wish..."

"You will scare her Freak."

Donovan comment went ignored by the detective, Sherlock and Lestrade stared at each others for a moment and eventually, the DI sighed.

"Fine, but under Sally's watch."

"Okay if she shut up."

"Don't order me around freak!"

"Donovan, let him interrogate, just watch him."

Though Sally looked clearly angered by this, she, John and Sherlock entered the room in which Rachel was waiting. The man sat in the chair facing Rachel while Sally and John leaned against the wall. If anything, the ex-soldier didn't like this one bit. He didn't want another fight between Sherlock and Sally, and he also feared for the victim. She had been hurt, badly hurt, she certainly didn't need more and though he liked Sherlock, he had to admit his friend could be...tactless.

"Miss Lane, my name's Sherlock Holmes," said he in his usual collected voice, "I need to ask you some questions: can you tell me first what happened exactly in this alley?"

"Hum, yes, I was buying eggs and on my way home someone grabbed me and…I don't know why this man began to beat me…"

"You didn't try to scream?"

"Oh I did, but he put his hand on my throat to stop me. He beat me and I tried to defend myself, you see? I tried to reach his face with my hands but all I found was this mask he was wearing…"

"What kind of mask?"

"Smooth…Hum, I think it covered all his face."

"Try to describe me what your hand felt."

Rachel nodded and her lips quivered into a very tiny smile. She was somehow feeling at ease with this man. He wasn't wasting time with pity, he was matter-of-factly and it was quite helpful right now.

"Well…It was smooth except for…I felt a shape of lips and nose…It was a plain mask and now yeah I think it covered all his face…Didn't the man who saved me saw this?"

"It happened too quickly for him," said Sherlock in a quite annoyed voice at the reminder of this idiot unable to answer most of his questions. "Did you hear his voice?"

"Yes, he told me something…I can't remember exactly what…"

"Focus, I need you to go back there and try to remember everything he told you."

"No," said Donovan firmly, "you seriously can't ask her to…"

"I am fine!" Interrupted Rachel who closed her eyes and concentrated

She remembered how the ground was damp; how the man was hitting her, the pain, his smell, his ragged breath…It was hard to remember this, really. Still she had to do it, she had to fight, she wouldn't let him win and she would show everyone she could be strong. She remembered his word slightly smothered by the mask.

"He said something like: you're an error…"

"No more?"

"Give me time…"

She forced herself to remember and by focusing so much on her aggressor in order to bring him down, she got for the slightest moment the impression that she was the one attacking him and it was sweet.

"He said you're an error, a…fucking genetic error and that I should have never been born. He said he would fix that."

Sherlock felt a slight pang at this but ignored it; his emotions couldn't get in his way. He noticed something sounded wrong.

"Genetic? Were you born blind?"

"No…No it's weird…I was ten when I lost my sight. Why did he think it was genetic? Maybe he was talking about something else?"

"Apart from being blind, is there anything else wrong with you?" Asked Sherlock, ignoring Sally outraged huff

"No, except my eyes everything is fine."

"He said something else?"

"No."

Sherlock nodded and decided to go on with another subject.

"I think he entered your home, did you notice…"

"Wait, what?"

Rachel was stunned at this and frightened, why did this man thought so? It was already horrible to have been but imagining that man breaking into her home was unbearable.

"According to Inspector Lestrade, when the police went at your home the lights were all turned on, I don't think it were you who did this."

"Actually it's me. I keep the lights on when night is coming."

Sherlock was a little taken aback at this. If it was the case, then he had been wrong. He hated to be wrong and he couldn't understand why this woman would turn the light on and that didn't make anything better.

"Why? You don't need it," stated Sherlock in genuine curiosity.

Still on the side Sally rolled her eyes and looked at Rachel, at her surprise the blind woman didn't look offended but was smiling a little instead.

Rachel was quite taken aback by his words but not hurt. He was blunt and certainly not tactful but at least he was voicing his thoughts. She could hear it wasn't a provocation but real genuine curiosity otherwise she would have been outraged. If there was one advantage to being blind, it was that she learned to make the difference between assholes provoking under the disguise of pity or curiosity, and genuinely curious people, who simply didn't know what it was like not to see anything.

"Technically no, but it makes me feel secured and…I don't know maybe more normal, I don't want to live like some kind of bat, always in the darkness. I want to live normally even if I am blind."

"Normal is boring," said Sherlock.

At that, Rachel giggled a little. That man was quite the character and she could hear no uneasiness when he was talking to her. It was as if she wasn't disabled. Sherlock's lips twitched in a shadow of a smile at it.

"I guess it's a matter of taste, I feel better with it even if I can't see it, you understand?"

"No."

"It's not easy for someone who is not in my condition, but anyway, I always turn the lights on, so don't get fooled by this."

"Okay. Did you recognize his voice?"

"No. I never heard this voice before, but he…There is something I remember, maybe it's irrelevant but for some reason I remember it well."

"What?"

"His smell, he smelled cologne. I don't know why it struck me, and I guess it is not important."

"Actually it could be. What kind of cologne, expensive you think?"

"Hum, I am not sure, there were other smells around but…Now that I think about it, it didn't smell bad at all."

"Okay, thank you Miss Lane for your help," eventually declared Sherlock.

"You're welcome."

She heard him leave the room and smiled again. If the cop hadn't been in here, she would have asked him to let her touch his face, though he could have refused, he sounded like he was in a hurry. She wished to know what he looked like.

"Miss Lane, are you okay?"

Rachel sighed a little. Pity, disgusting pity was assaulting her again.

"Yes, I am fine. You don't need to ask me that every five minutes."

"I just don't want you to pay attention to him, he is a freak."

"Really? Because actually it's good to talk to someone who is not bothered by the fact I am blind. Yeah, very nice…For a moment he made me forget about the scars."

The sergeant lowered her head slightly in shame, she realised the blind woman was certainly sensing the way people looked at her, even if she couldn't see. She may have heard some whispers too.

"I think Inspector Lestrade will interrogate you too, can you stay here?"

"I will."

Sally exited the room and saw the freak with Doctor Watson in Greg's empty office; she entered it with the intention to confront the detective. Maybe Rachel hadn't been affected by his questions and behaviour but someone more fragile could have.

"Hey, Freak, a word?"

"What upsets you this time Sally?"

"The way you acted with her! God I know you are a sociopath, but you could at least learn how to talk to someone who…"

"Before you go on with your little sanctimonious rant, I'll ask you something: did she smile or laugh when _you_ talked with her?"

Sally opened her mouth and clasped it, she wasn't expecting that, plus she realised it was true, Rachel was gloomy with her while she had brightened with Sherlock.

"I don't see what it has to do with it."

"It has everything to do with it. Your oh-so-wonderful-pity isn't what that woman needs at all; some people are weak and needs to be nursed but not everyone. Your pity is certainly like a spat on her face, she smiled with me because I didn't offer my help, I asked for hers. That's how you help someone strong: by giving them a chance to fight back."

Sherlock left after those final words, followed by a stunned Watson. Donovan just watched, confused as ever, she exchanged a brief look with the Doctor, and it was obvious both of them weren't expecting that little outburst.

If something took aback Sally it was that: Sherlock Holmes, the Freak, actually made someone feel good on purpose…

 **Writing Sherlock and Donovan arguing is actually funny! Review please, it would be nice to know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

 **Thanks to those who reviewed, it was really nice to read your comments! Thanks to GoldenMoon1997 for her advice, I'll try to remember it ^^**

 **Enjoy!**

John Watson would have never been arrogant enough to say he understood Sherlock Holmes completely but right know he was sure that his friend wasn't unaffected by what just happened. He waited for them to be out of Scotland Yard to say something as they walked through the streets.

"Sherlock?"

"What?"

"Are you okay?"

Sherlock looked at him with those piercing blue-grey eyes (John slightly noticed they looked more grey than blue for now) and scoffed in a way Watson knew was more defensive than anything.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"The way you talked to Donovan, it seemed almost like there was something personal about this case."

"One of your brilliant deduction again, sorry to tell you how wrong you are. Again."

John was feeling like yelling at him but held himself back. It wouldn't be any good, he wouldn't obtain much answers like this.

"I think you were right about her but…"

"About who? The blind woman?"

"Yes, but you can't really reproach Donovan her behaviour, I mean she is not as stupid as you think."

"Oh John are you kidding?"

John knew he had a chance there. He knew Sherlock was right, he had seen it in contrary to what the detective thought. The woman did felt good while talking to him, in fact he was pretty sure that seeing Sherlock again might help her. Maybe it was because Sherlock had a practical way to see things. But right now, he wanted to make Sherlock talk, and he learned that Sherlock had a tendency to talk more when he wanted to prove a point rather than when he was asked about his feelings.

"I don't exactly know what happened with that woman; you said she was at ease with you but are you sure she really was?"

"Of course John. You were here and you didn't even see it, I observe unlike you, her muscles were relaxed, she wasn't trembling, in fact the more we talked the more she felt better! I could see it."

"Good, a poor blind woman who just got attacked..."

Sherlock gave him a chuckle, angry and outraged at the same time, interrupting John.

"It's exactly that! Neither you nor those idiots in the Yard can get this! _Poor blind woman_ , it's obvious she hates it, it's obvious she doesn't want to be a victim, doesn't want to be treated with pity and wants people to leave her alone!"

Watson was pretty sure they weren't talking about Rachel Lane anymore; she was being used as a mean to talk about something else. He wondered if Sherlock had realised that. Though he didn't like seeing Sherlock angry like this, John knew he had to continue. If angry, Sherlock might finally let him see.

"Alone isn't always good Sherlock, she needs kindness and compassion."

"You want to be a hero for people John, that's the problem! You and Lestrade don't see people as they are, you don't try to understand them but change them. It's your pity, this oh-so-heroic need of yours to save people from themselves that turn them into monsters. Those idiots in the Yard are turning her into a beast, a monster by treating her like this, according to their own vision of normality. They think they are better than me but they are crueller, and they are too stupid to get it!"

Beast…A word quite close to freak, John was starting to understand what this was about. A silence settled between them and Sherlock calmed down, slowly realising he had let out more than he wished.

"I hope this answer is enough for you, now let me think, I don't need your stupid questions in the way."

John silently watched Sherlock and though he wasn't as observant as him, he could see his hands were shaking slightly. Sherlock was wrong on two points: he wasn't trying to change people without even understanding or knowing them, and loneliness wasn't a good thing. Yet he had obtained more than he hoped so he didn't insist. He also realised Sherlock was right on something: people of the yard were certainly making Miss Lane feel like some kind of freak with their behaviour.

They were still walking in the street, but that wasn't a problem for the detective. Though Sherlock was looking like he was focusing on the case, he was thinking about something else: his past. He remembered his home, his school, the other kids and Tyler…His friend Tyler. His heart clenched a little but he suppressed it. He couldn't let his emotions get the best of him but for some reasons, this encounter had upset him, maybe because Rachel Lane's pride reminded him of his friend, his lost friend.

 _Two eight year old boys were hiding in an old abandoned house. None of them wanted to be home, or seen by the other children, they just wanted to be alone. The boys, Sherlock and Tyler weren't playing; they were doing something much more useful: Sherlock was teaching his friend how to talk properly in spite of his deafness and mild autism._

 _Little Tyler was burdened with this problem but what was making it worse was the fact his parents were doing nothing about it. They weren't very rich but weren't poor either, they were part of the middle class, and if they had just made an effort and saved some money, they could have at least paid him sessions with a speech therapist to help him but no. Their son wasn't normal and they wanted a normal child so they neglected him. His autism made it even more difficult for him to communicate, Tyler wasn't completely asocial, he merely had a mild Asperger syndrome, but the environment he was in didn't help at all. Due to those two problems, the boy was often acting in ways which would often be seen as weird._

 _Tyler was a freak according to some people. Those who didn't call him freak showered the boy with a pity that sickened him. Sherlock was the only one who wouldn't act as such. He was also seen as a freak, but not because of something in his physical appearance, because of his strange behaviour. Everyone thought it wasn't surprising that the two boys were friends. With him, Sherlock would simply be practical and friendly, whenever he would teach Tyler something, he could be impatient and even annoying, but he would never pity him._

 _In order to help Tyler who could barely say anything, Sherlock had learned everything he could about speech therapy and deafness, his genius mind allowing him to do it quite quickly. Now he wasn't a professional but he could help his friend. While he could understand he words he was reading, pronouncing those was really difficult for him. They were doing it for months, Tyler had made progress_.

" _Come on, you can do it: the cat is laughing like crazy in Wonderland."_

 _They recently read Alice in Wonderland and Sherlock figured out that Tyler might have better results with something he liked._

" _The ca…Cat is laugh…"_

" _Hey what are you doing?!"_

 _Sherlock and Tyler turned to see two other boys and at their sight the young genius snarled. Those two were bullies and they loved to mess with everyone but Tyler was their favourite target._

" _That's not your business, retard," replied Sherlock._

 _Tyler stood up, he was blushing in rage and his eyes were throwing fire. If he couldn't utter every insults he wished, he was still angered. Sherlock could feel it._

" _Hey don't talk to me like that, you sucker! We are going to kick your asses, freaks!"_

 _Sherlock didn't reply anything this time; instead he jumped on his feet and threw himself on one of the boys, and punched him hard in the face. His brother had taught him how to throw punches and kick. The kid was so surprised he lost his balance and tripped. Sherlock gave him a hard kick in the ribs. The other bully pushed him hard and kicked him in the shin. Sherlock was about to hit him, but Tyler jumped in the fight and tackled his attacker. Sherlock and he won in the end, making the two jerks run. When the evening came however, the bullies' parents complained, their kids pretended Sherlock and Tyler started it all._

 _Tyler tried to explain his parents he wasn't the guilty one but it didn't gave any result and Sherlock didn't succeed either in soothing his parents' wrath. Though his parents were far from being as bad as Tyler's, they would often doubt him, too much, and whenever someone complained, they always thought Sherlock did something to deserve it, because their son was…different. When he and Tyler saw each other the next day, Sherlock just sighed and said:_

" _It doesn't matter what they say. Just ignore them all."_

It was better to ignore pain and keep every emotions under control, Sherlock learned that the hard-way. It was the best way to handle names like freak. The detective sighed and focused for real on the case.

Rachel said the man was smelling cologne, which meant he was paying attention to his appearance, something that Sherlock actually expected. He was killing those persons because he thought they were disgusting, stain over the world. Sherlock wondered if he was disfigured himself or not. If he was, then it meant he was attacking people like him out of self-hatred, but Sherlock dismissed that. If the cologne did smell good as the victim said, then it could be expensive. Someone with self-hatred wouldn't waste money to smell good. Plus self-hatred wasn't needed to hate deformed people. He knew it too well after happened to Tyler.

He clenched his jaw; he didn't want to think about it.

Focusing on the killer again, he wondered who he was. A man obsessed with perfection? That was possible, when he saw the corpses, he noticed something strange: the stabs in the face were always made according to the same patterns, four in each cheeks, one in each eyes, three in each side of the jaws, big cuts on the temples and then one last stab through the forehead. There was symmetry in the stabs, an obsession with doing this perfectly. Every victim had the same pattern on the face, it wasn't for nothing.

That man was obsessed with perfection, he was sure of it.

He suddenly heard his phone rang, it was Lestrade.

"Yes?"

"Sherlock, something happened."

Hearing his voice, it meant something bad. He stopped Watson.

"John, wait."

They took a cab, heading to the address Lestrade gave to the detective.

 **Review, please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

 **Here is the fourth chapter, I hope you'll like it!**

Sherlock and John were soon at the address Lestrade gave: it was Rachel's one. The inspector was waiting for them outside while cops were investigating inside.

"What happened?"

"Someone entered Rachel's home while she was away; they put the whole house in a mess and left a letter. We found it all when we brought her back home. She insisted that I read it to her, I regret doing so, I must say."

"I need to see it."

"Here."

Lestrade gave it to him, Sherlock immediately noticed it was a fine letter paper, not just a blank one. It was slightly yellow, made maybe in Italia. The ink used was black, written with a fountain pen: elegant, he knew that man wasn't the kind to neglect appearances.

 _Dear Error_

 _I failed to kill you the first time, but don't worry, I'll fix that mistake,_

 _I guess you cried to the police about me, because people like you always beg for attention, ruining others lives without concern. Soon however, I hope people will see the truth about you._

 _I might send London's population a message about fiends like you, if it works, step by step I might finally allow a new beautiful generation to see the day._

 _Hide if you want, but I'll find you._

 _Yours,_

 _N_

Sherlock gave a sinister smile. He saw Miss Lane coming toward him, though her eyes remained inexpressive, he could feel how angered and frightened she was by this.

"I heard you coming Mr Holmes, you read that hideous letter?"

"I did. I knew he had an obsession with perfection."

"An eugenist it seems," John muttered.

Sherlock nodded, quite satisfied to see John's mind was getting sharper. Lestrade looked at Watson, wondering what he was talking about, the doctor clarified that for him.

"Eugenic is a philosophy about the improvement of humanity's genetic composition with methods such as the exclusive reproduction between people judged as sane physically and mentally, sterilisation of people judged as deficient physically or mentally. Sometimes it goes as far as the eradication of disabled persons. Nazism comes from this philosophy."

"I see…Then it's a nazist?" Asked Rachel

"Not necessarily, as I said nazism is a extension of this philosophy, but they aren't completely alike."

"So I and the people killed are not fitting in human's evolution," spat Rachel with disdain

John blushed, he didn't mean to hurt her in any way, even if he knew she wasn't angry at him. Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. Lestrade huffed slightly in indignation:

"Seriously, who is crazy enough to think like this? Good thing people like this are rare."

"Don't be stupid, there are much more than you think. They don't say it clearly but deep down…"

The thought of Tyler plagued his mind again. He pushed it away.

"I have to go inside and search for hints."

He didn't even wait for Lestrade to give him his permission; he went inside followed by John and Rachel who wanted to hear more, the doctor taking the occasion to introduce himself. Sherlock observed the mess he made; he could tell right away that nothing was stolen. No, this had been made out of rage; he had broken the furniture and the crockery to show the woman that she wasn't allowed to live normally. He also had used a knife to scratch every picture in the house, had broken the windows, but hadn't touched the bathroom mirror. That was strange, he should have had.

He also saw a slight footprint on the ground and crouched to it. He took the measurement. He could tell already the man's size, he was tall, appreciatively Sherlock's size. John crouched at it too.

"He finally let something."

"Hum, he is as tall as me at least."

"What did you find?" Asked Rachel

"A footprint; he never leaves anything behind usually, that's one of his first mistakes!"

"What?"

The last sound came from Anderson who had missed it. The man went to it; usually Sherlock would have made a comment about his lack of intelligence but right now, he wasn't focused on him at all. Rachel spoke to him again.

"You said one of his first mistakes, what's the other one?"

Sherlock didn't answer but went to the bathroom's mirror instead. It was very clean; the washbowl however hadn't been cleaned since some days. If the woman had cleaned her mirror she would have also did her washbasin.

"Rachel, did you clean your mirror recently?"

"No, I rarely do it in fact, why?"

Sherlock looked if there were any hints in the washbasin but there was nothing. He turned on the hot water. This made Anderson yell out:

"What are you doing?! There might be evidences in it!"

"Shut up, Anderson, the mirror is the hint."

The steam made by the water soon covered the mirror and revealed something: a message written: _Well done Sherlock, your defective Queen hasn't been taken yet._ Defective Queen…It definitely meant Rachel, so the killer was considering this as some kind of chess game and apparently to him, Rachel was the Queen.

"Oh God."

This came from Lestrade who looked really taken aback, as well as John.

"What's happening?" Asked Rachel who heard them

Sherlock read her the message, and she paled slightly in worry.

"So you're one of his targets too."

"No, I think I am somehow his adversary, his little quest for perfection wouldn't be as enjoyable if he hadn't one."

"He already has the whole Yard!" Exclaimed Lestrade

"A precise figure," explained Sherlock quite exasperated.

The Inspector sighed, this was getting really messy and he didn't like the idea to endanger Sherlock, after all he was a civilian. He turned to Rachel, she would have to be protected, the killer wasn't done with her obviously.

"Miss Lane you can't stay here, you'll be under police's protection. Do you have anywhere to go?"

"No, my parents are dead and I have no siblings. I don't want to go at a friend's place I don't want to involve any of them."

Before Lestrade could speak, John took the opportunity:

"You can come at my and Sherlock's place. It would be good, if that guy has an eye on Sherlock, we might keep Baker Street protected as well."

Though the idea seemed strange to everyone, John's argument made sense. Rachel smiled softly and shrugged a little.

"Why not? Only if that's convenient to you Mr Holmes."

"I don't mind you. Cops however…"

None of the cops could say what was the weirder, John's proposition, the fact Rachel wasn't afraid of the freak or the fact that said freak actually accepted her around.

"Okay, I will have someone stay in the flat with you, I hope things will go well," Lestrade spoke for Sherlock mostly.

"I volunteer," proposed Donovan.

Lestrade didn't even wonder why Sally wanted to do this: she feared Sherlock to hurt Rachel, and she wanted to be around to keep an eye on him. Sherlock just rolled his eyes.

"Well that's going to be fun."

Sherlock continued to inspect the crime scene while Rachel was packing to stay with them, taking only the necessary. They left only when Sherlock was done inspecting.

Once they were at Baker's street, Sherlock extended his arm to Rachel so she could follow them. She took it gently and counted the steps she needed from the entrance to the stairs, from the stairs to the flat's door. Though Donovan wondered what she was doing, Sherlock and John perfectly knew.

"I'll take the couch, you can take my bed," proposed Watson.

"Thanks but the couch can be fine for me. I don't want to bother you."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Hum, for you Sergeant…"

"I won't sleep; under surveillance I stay awake all night."

"Okay, Miss Lane I'll show you my room."

"You can call me Rachel."

While John helped her to settle in his room, Sherlock began to work with every hint he gathered, ignoring Sally completely. The sergeant was watching him with curiosity and suspicion; he wasn't acting like his usual self. He was a selfish, rude and cruel man, but here he was almost nice with the blind woman, he had no tact but he wasn't trying to hurt Rachel, in fact he seemed like he cared. She remembered what he had told her in the station, that Rachel didn't need his pity. After all, maybe a freak like Sherlock Holmes could feel some compassion for someone disabled. She was watching him while he was writing something on his board. Soon enough, his shoulders slumped and he turned to her.

"I can feel your eyes boring into my back. It's distracting."

"I was just wondering why you are so nice to her."

"Because she is the kind of person I like."

"What is that kind?"

"Not yours and Anderson's."

"Which means?" Asked she with anger in her voice. Lord the freak was almost being likeable, and he was ruining it.

"Strong and smart, of course."

"Who is strong and smart?"

Both Sherlock and Sally turned to Rachel who had a knowing smile in spite of the question she just asked. Sally held back her nasty comments for now at least, she would have many other occasions to talk down the freak later. The woman had a towel in her arms.

"Don't mind if I take a shower?" Asked Rachel.

"It's six steps on your left," simply replied Sherlock.

Rachel thanked him, and went to the bathroom, refusing John's help when he proposed her to show how the shower worked. She could work things up, she was used to find that kind of thing out herself. John proposed some tea and Donovan accepted, hoping that it would help to relax. Sherlock had put pictures of the victims on the board. He knew what the killer's motivation was: disgust and rage. Those people were getting killed because the killer couldn't bear to see them around. It was exactly the reason why Tyler was getting beat up by the other kids, because he wasn't normal. He realised then that even if he didn't like it, he had to remember what happened with Tyler, and how people considered him.

" _He is just so weird!_ "

" _You shouldn't be with normal people!_ "

" _Tyler can't speak!_ "

" _I think he isn't only deaf, he must be a retard."_

" _I'm sick and tired to see him every day!_ "

Sherlock's eyes opened suddenly as he realised something: why the killer started.

"He knew her."

"What?" Asked John quite surprised

"He knew the first victim, I am sure of it."

"How do you know that?"

"That man is killing because he hates his victims; they disgust him and he thinks they have nothing to do in this world. Look at the first victim, the little girl, Kathleen Moore, he beat her up a lot, more than the others. The three next victims almost have the same wounds, he is very precise, why did he beat up this little girl more than the others?"

"He could be nervous because it was his first time," said Donovan

"No, he didn't need to beat her up that much; she was a little girl, she was an easy prey, while the others are adults. She was different; she had angered him much more than the others."

"How could a little girl do that?"

"She didn't do anything. I told you, they disgust him, and when do you become really fed up and angered with something or someone who disgust you?"

Donovan was taken aback, she couldn't really understand, John however understood:

"When you are exposed to it too much…When the object of your disgust is under your eyes every days."

"Exactly, he knew her and he knows me too, one way or another. He knows I am on this investigation even if the media didn't talk about me, so it's highly probable he watched us. We have to investigate on people around Kathleen Moore."

 **Review, please ^^**


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